by Gayle Katz
“Are you a doctor, ma’am?”
“No, but—”
“They’re fine, ma’am. Everyone goes through security. If there was a problem, they’d alert us.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, ma’am. Try to relax. We’re getting started on the second leg of our flight soon.” She then heads back to the front of the plane, trying to help more passengers get situated as quickly as possible.
Unable to relax as instructed, I decide to investigate my surroundings. I unbuckle my seat belt and kneel on my seat like an impatient child. Immediately, I draw the attention of everybody in the rows behind me. They’re staring. I feel myself get flush. I know I should sit down, but instead look back and scan the seats for the people who don’t look so good. I spot one two rows behind me and another in the row of seats directly across from me. In the meantime, a man is checking his seat assignment and sits down next to me. I stop kneeling and sit properly so I don’t attract any more unwanted attention.
“Nice to meet you,” he says.
“Hello,” I say back.
“My name is Stephen. And you are?”
“Uhhh. Jane. My name is Jane.”
“You seem a little anxious. Not a good flyer?”
“Yeah. Something like that.”
“Don’t worry about anything. Flying is one of the safest modes of transportation, no matter what you hear.”
“Uh-huh.” I don’t know what else to say to this man. I’m not the best at small talk, especially when I feel threatened. A few of the people who boarded the plane clearly look ill, but somehow they passed the security checkpoints. It’s a good thing someone from the flight crew interrupts with their typical spiel.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the captain has turned on the ‘Fasten Seat Belt’ sign. If you haven’t already done so, please stow your carry-ons underneath your chair or in the overhead compartment. Then please take your seat and fasten your seat belt. If you have any questions about our flight, we encourage you to ask one of our flight attendants. Thank you.”
The flight crew and pilot then jump into their zombie hotspot warnings since Maharabad is our final destination. The basic spiel is know your surroundings and the airline isn’t responsible if you turn into a zombie. I see one of the flight attendants demonstrating the seatbelt and the oxygen mask, but I’m distracted by all the people around me who look like hell.
“Don’t worry,” Stephen says as he pats my hand. “I’ve been on so many of these flights and not a zombie bite on me. For legal and safety reasons, they have to warn you, but everything will be fine. You’ll see. Stop worrying and enjoy the flight.”
“Enjoy the flight?” I question him sarcastically.
“Maybe you need a drink instead. It’ll help you unwind.”
“Sure. I’m sure they’ll have something once we get up in the air.”
The plane starts to inch forward. It goes faster and faster until the landing gear is retracted and I start to feel my ears pop. I close my eyes and pray we arrive at our destination in one piece. I unbuckle my seat belt and peek my head above seat level in order to see what’s going on with the people I’ve had my eye on. They still look off to me, but they’re acting just fine so far.
“Listen,” he continues talking. “Why don’t you get some sleep? It might take the edge off. If anything happens, I promise to wake you up.”
His voice comforts me and I try to take my anxiety level down a notch. “Thank you for being so kind. I appreciate it.”
He smiles and nods.
I practice my breathing exercises and try to get some shuteye.
Chapter 5
________________________________________
A woman screams and freezing cold wind whips across my face, scaring me awake. Eyes open, I see the plane is in chaos. Oxygen masks are dangling down and people are being tossed around in the cabin. Then I see them. Zombies. Crazy, diseased eyes. Gray, corpse-like skin. Those dirty disgusting creatures are crawling all over the plane. I go to reach for a mask to put over Stephen’s face, but he’s bleeding from his head and neck and it doesn’t look as if he’s breathing. I watch his chest for a moment and I don’t see it moving. I put it over his mouth and nose anyway. I grab another mask, put it on my face, and try to stay out of sight. Grotesque creatures are screeching and chomping all around me. Some still secured in their seat belts, others are going after passengers, or getting sucked out of the plane. I can’t close my eyes for a second. All I can do is sink down in my seat, watch, and pray they don’t notice me.
I dig my fingertips into the armrests and try to keep calm. Screaming will only signal that I’m on the menu so I remain quiet. As I scan the plane, I see some of the zombies fly out of the airplane. I’m stunned to see that someone was able to open the cabin door. I thought that was nearly impossible from the intense pressure pushing against the plane, unless we were decreasing in altitude. But right now, anyone not wearing a seat belt, human or zombie is being pried from the plane. We definitely must be close to landing if someone was able to open the door in this type of pressurized environment. I look out the window and see ground. We’re close all right.
Remember to breathe. Take advantage of the oxygen mask. I try to think good thoughts, but my neighbor on the other side of the aisle isn’t having much luck doing the same. He’s freaking out and unlocks his seat belt. I don’t know where he thinks he’s going. As soon as he clicks the release button on the locking mechanism, the belt flies free and he’s pulled from his seat. He grabs for me. I loosen my seat belt, reach out as far as I can, and manage to catch his hand in mine. For a moment, I see him smile. I try to pull him back, but he’s too heavy and our grasp is severed. He flies back and hits his head on the section of the plane above the exit before his lifeless body is sucked out the door.
I gasp. He’s dead. If for some reason he isn’t dead now, he’ll definitely be dead when his body hits the ground. Still in shock, I focus on the only thing I can control and tighten my seat belt again. Without it, I might be the next casualty.
I hear noise underneath the plane. It’s probably the landing gear deploying. I hold onto the armrests and pray that the seat belt does its job. My heart is beating fast from the zombie outbreak currently infesting the plane and the extremely turbulent flight tossing me around. I just hope we don’t have a crash landing. I don’t think this mess is another one of my nightmares unfortunately, although I’d prefer that to this messed-up, real-life horror. I turn, look out the window, and all I see is sand and dirt. We’re getting closer to the ground.
I brace myself. The tires of the plane hit the ground and jerk me forward against the seat belt. I open my eyes. I’m still in one piece and so is the plane, as we’re on the ground taxiing to the terminal. Lady luck must be on our side today. Immediately, I feel intense, oppressive heat envelop my body. Taking off the oxygen mask, I notice the air is dry and more difficult to take in. I have to focus on inhaling, exhaling, and getting oxygen into my lungs so I don’t start wheezing.
Moments later, I see the flight attendant and two men, presumably the pilot and copilot, explode from the cockpit, guns in hand. Holy crap. I’ve never witnessed guns on a plane before. I’m frozen in my seat.
“Raise your hands! Do it now!” the flight attendant demands.
Still secured in my seat belt, I raise my hands high in the air. The nice man next to me, Stephen, doesn’t raise his hands.
The threesome start firing into the seats, careful to angle their shots so they don’t accidentally kill someone unlucky enough to be sitting behind a zombie. My hands and arms are shaking and I pray they don’t shoot me by accident. They walk forward down the aisle, picking off zombie after zombie still restrained by their seat belts. All of them with head shots. I have a feeling this isn’t the first time something like this has happened. Each time the guns go off, I cower away from the loud popping sounds and hold my ears. I do my best to put my arms back in the air after the shooting stops.
&n
bsp; After the flight crew secures the plane, they holster their weapons. The attendant starts checking out the seats with frightened passengers in them. One by one people start getting out of their seats and heading toward the exit. At the same time, the two men who I can only presume are the pilot and copilot turn around and walk back into the cockpit. When the flight attendant comes to me, she touches my arm. I flinch.
“It’s over, ma’am. You can relax now. You’re fine. You can put your hands down, gather your things, and exit the plane as soon as you’re able. Take your time,” she says as she begins to walk away.
“H-How often does this happen?” I ask.
“Every so often. Try to remain calm, all right?”
“H-How do you deal with it?”
“I don’t know. I just try not to think about it too much. I’ve been trained and I guess instinct takes over for the most part. Anyway, you’re good to go. Stay as long as you need. If you need anything else, I’ll be on the plane.”
“Thank you.”
I see her walk down the aisle and approach other scared passengers. For a moment, I just stare at the scene, watching a few of the survivors exit the plane as they cross into my field of vision. I try to keep a vigilant eye on the zombie remains. The last thing I need is for one of them to move and attack me.
The flight attendant distracts me from my survey of the carnage by picking up the public address system microphone and addressing the passengers who are still on the plane.
“If anyone needs assistance, I’ll be on the plane. Just come and get me or push the call button above your seat. I understand it’s a traumatic time and we want to do anything and everything to help you adjust. It’s important to make sure you’re all right so, as you leave the plane, a medical team will be on standby to check you out before you enter the airport.”
My heart is still beating out of my chest.
With shaky fingers, I unbuckle my seat belt, look down the aisle, and see the remaining people continue to funnel out of the plane. I also see more of the passengers who aren’t moving, most of them shot in the head. The guy I noticed two rows back is gone and the woman in the row across from mine isn’t moving. Her head is resting against the seat in front of her and her body is slumped forward. She’s definitely dead. It’s horrific, but I can’t look away.
After a few minutes, I see people pass by my line of sight. I snap back into reality. I have to focus on why I’m here. The people around me who survived this ordeal start gathering their belongings and exiting the plane. I decide it’s time for me to do the same. A few people look like they’re in shock, but most others just go about their day. I guess this is business as usual in these parts of the world.
I look to the seat next to me and try to process the fact that there was a nice man sitting here, but now he’s just a corpse. Loss of life is always sad, but I have a mission to accomplish. I have to leave grieving for later. I stand up, stretch my legs and my arms, and look in the overhead compartment.
“Where’s my bag?” I mumble to myself, getting nervous.
Everyone ignores me, focusing on their own lives.
“Where’s my bag?” I say louder. “What happened to my bag?” I shout as the people around me give me dirty looks and circumvent me however they can in order to get off the plane.
Within minutes, all of the remaining passengers get off the plane. I’m the only one left onboard. I decide to check all of the other overhead compartments. Nothing. The same flight attendant comes over. “Can I help you, ma’am?”
“Yes, you can. My bag isn’t here.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course! Yes, I’m sure. I came on with a bag and now it’s gone. I put it in this compartment right here. The one right over the seat I was sitting in.”
“Maybe someone took it out by mistake and moved it to another storage area.”
“I checked all of the other overhead bins.”
“Or maybe it was sucked out of the plane. I don’t know. If the luggage onboard got tossed around, you might want to look on the seats and under them.”
“Fine. Can you help me find it?”
“Sure, ma’am.”
“What color were your bags?”
“Both my carry-on and purse were black.”
“Good to know. As I continue walking the aircraft, I’ll keep an eye out for any unclaimed luggage and carry-ons. I also have to help the crew write up an incident report, allow the authorities to investigate, and prepare for our next flight on another plane so your patience is appreciated.”
“Thank you. For everything.”
“You’re very welcome. Ma’am, just remember you’re alive and well. Be thankful for that. Others weren’t so lucky. Listen, I have to get going. People are expecting to depart at a specific time and we’re already running behind. If I find anything, I’ll let you know.”
“What am I going to do in the meantime? I had all my things in that bag. My clothes. My shoes. Crap! I had my ID, passport, return ticket, phone, and money in my purse. I had everything in there!”
“Again, I’m sorry, ma’am. We’ll keep looking, but you can go to the counter and file a complaint. I have to warn you though, considering the history of getting lost items returned in Maharabad, the chances of recovering your items are not good.”
I don’t respond to her. I fall back into one of the seats and put my head in my hands. What am I going to do? What am I going to do? Focus. Stay calm. It’s only stuff. Stuff can be replaced. I could have died, but I didn’t. Think. What’s the name of the club? Ariyana. That’s it.
I exit the plane, despite feeling naked without my bag. I encounter the medical team just outside the exit.
A woman approaches me. She’s wearing a stethoscope and a white coat. She says something in another language. I don’t understand so I reply, “Do you speak English?”
“English? Yes,” she says. “How are you feeling?”
“Terrified.”
“I understand. Do you have any open wounds? Are you bleeding?”
“No.”
“May I take a look? It’s safety protocol anytime we have an outbreak.”
“I guess. If it’s what you do.”
As she inspects my body, she rolls up my sleeve and sees my old bite mark scar. Instead of freaking out, she simply asks, “Is this from a previous zombie attack?”
“Yes.”
“If I may, how long ago?”
“I can’t remember exactly, but it’s been years.”
“It looks like it’s healed well. You’re quite fortunate. Most people turn or are killed.”
“I know.” I give her a partial smile and nod my head.
“How are you feeling physically? Are you sweating? Do you feel hot? Do you have the chills?”
“Well, I am hotter, but that’s probably just from the change in climate. I just came from the United States. It’s a lot cooler there.”
“I understand. How about your joints? Any stiffness?”
“No.”
“Good. Good. Did you vomit or do you have to vomit?”
“No.”
“Any loss of muscle coordination or numbness in your arms or legs?”
“No.”
“Good. Good. That’s all very good.”
“So, do I pass the test?”
“Yes, ma’am. You’re free to go. And watch your back. Random outbreaks like this happen more often here.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
Clearly they’re afraid other people are infected from the outbreak. I’m a bit shaken up emotionally, but I’m fine physically. I’m not turning into a zombie, at least not today.
Getting back to the whole purpose of me being here, I can’t waste any more time. As I leave the medical team and walk into the terminal, I spot an official-looking person who might be able to help.
“Hello?”
“Hello,” he replies.
“I lost my luggage and purse. Where can I go to report it?”
“All of the airlines have help desks as you walk down to the baggage claim area.”
“Thank you.”
I quickly notify the authorities that I lost all of my stuff when heading out of the airport. The general consensus is the same. They’ll file a claim, but it probably doesn’t matter at this point. My stuff is gone. According to that security guard back in the States, I’ll have plenty of time to explain everything that happened when I’m stuck in quarantine. Right now I need to focus on Jack.
I weave myself through all the people in the airport and get to street level. As soon as I’m near the exit doors, the dry air attacks my nostrils and the intense heat slaps me in the face. This world is different and strange. It’s so far away from the safe, cozy place Jack and I call home.
Taking a deep breath, I venture outside of the airport.
Chapter 6
________________________________________
My first step onto the hot streets of Maharabad is a difficult one. The sun seems extra strong here, like I’m baking in an oven. It’s blindingly bright, too. Without my sunglasses, I have to put my hand over my eyes and block the sun a little to see. As my body tries to adjust to this new environment, I see the line for cabs, even though I have to squint through the sweat now pouring down my face. If memory serves, these cab guys always know the area. I can at least ask him for directions. I walk over to the guy who looks like he’s in charge. “Sir? Excuse me, sir?”
He looks at me. I got his attention.
“Do you speak English?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Can you tell me where I can find a club named Ariyana?”
He looks me up and down with his eager eyes, and then smiles a creepy smile. “I’ll take you there.” He grabs for me and touches my arm.
“No. That’s OK. I can’t pay you. Someone stole my bag and my money. Can you just tell me how to get there?”
I expect to hear him respond, but all I hear is a woman screaming behind me. I turn around and see a crowd of people running out of the airport doors. Gnarled zombies are close behind them and catching up. As the crowd turns into a mob, people are pushing other people in order to get out of the way. A few fall to the ground. I see one woman get knocked down and hit her head on the ground. As she tries to get back to her feet another woman runs by and stomps on her leg. She’s running for her life and everyone scatters, trying to get away, without sympathy for anyone else. People are the same all over the world. No concern for fellow human beings.